Archy's Gun has Angel Wings
by ThePointGirl
Summary: Johnny is playing with Archy's gun and musing to himself when he's cooped up in the Cole residence.  Johnny/Archy.


**Title: Archy's Gun has Angel Wings.  
**

**Author: **ThePointGirl

**Fandom: **RocknRolla

**Pairings: **Johnny/Archy

**Warnings: **None really – but you do know its SLASH, right?

**Rating: **T – R (for later chapters)

**Read: **in class :-P

**Disclaimer: **Guy Ritchie owns RocknRolla – all of it, even bloody Mumbles ha-ha. So yeah, don't own it – wish I did own Johnny and Archy though ;-)

**Notes: **Well I thought for ages about writing a RocknRolla fiction, so here it is.

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**#1**

"Daddy was a bank robber, but he never hurt nobody, he just loved to live that way and loved to take your money!" Johnny sang to his room.

Swivelling the silver barrelled pistol on his index finger, he admired the cut of the angel wings on each side of the trigger. It was Archy's gun. Archy being his Daddy's right hand man – the one who's loyal 'til the end. He found it, well nicked, it off Archy's desk. He was bored, wanted something to play with. He knew how to handle guns 'cause he was brought up tagging on to East London's very own Mafia. Catching the gun he held it, pointing it at random objects in his room. These objects included the leaning tower of Pisa that was his song lyrics. Piled high with unfinished lyrics, bursts of poetry and some heartfelt bollocks that Pete said was 'nice'. Moving his arm in a swift motion he pointed the gun at the mirror at the end of the room. Tall, slim and glaring glass - reminded him of his 'Uncle' Archy, smirking at his own joke he pulled the cigarette from his lips. He puffed out a load of black curls and ripples. Holding the cigarette and the gun out in front of him for inspection he thought about putting the two together. That would result in a complex problem, i.e. Johnny would owe his 'Daddy' a huge sum that he wouldn't be able to pay off till the ripe age of 200. He stopped. Hearing movement on the floor below and a door slam, he was sure someone was back. Johnny threw the gun (which was on safety) onto the leaning tower of Pisa across the room. The pile descended in a wave of paper – the gun hidden beneath it. The room smelt of smoke – not that, that mattered: all of Archy's gang knew Johnny smoked various substances. He was Lenny Cole's stepson, he was a little prince. Jumping up from his bed he bounded out the door and walked straight into Archy.

"Hey Uncle Arch – didn't hear you come up. You're like a ghost" Johnny grinned bouncing on his feet like a terrier who wanted to be played with.

"It's called subtlety Johnny, something you can't seem to do" Archy said carefully, holding his words like gold.

"I can – "Johnny replied and Archy looked straight at him. Johnny had to lower his eyes. Not because he was ashamed, but Archy had a look that seemed to cut through his many layers. Even his old man couldn't do that – it was all Archy. Puffing at the cigarette he had briefly forgotten about he directed the smoke away from Archy (knowing how much he hates it). The reason why Johnny Quid was stuck in the Cole establishment for night and day like a prisoner: was because he had decided to take a tour around London a couple of nights ago, free of charge. The joyride had ended in a squeal of wheels and a crash of glass on metal. The situation managed to escalate as the person Johnny slammed into was not a normal – Archy'll-give-him-a-slap-and-he'll-sod-off – driver, he was a driver-delivering-some-real-expensive-antiques-for-Lenny-Cole-for-a-client. That was the sole reason why Mr Quid was confined to his bedroom singing rock ballads and not singing hymns at the bottom of the Thames. Archy moved passed Johnny into his room uninvited, looking around. His expression wasn't of disgust but it wasn't outright glee either. Johnny stepped back into the room, watching Archy's every movement.

"If you're going to ask me to clean my room Uncle Arch, I'll say no" Johnny said cheekily, his voice a little coarser from the substance. Archy turned around, his black (probably expensive) coat swung about him.

"Johnny boy, asking you to do anything and you listening would be a miracle" Archy said, still scanning the room – eyes resting on Johnny for seconds at a time. Johnny smiled, his school boy smile.

"I listen to you"

"Yeah, after a few backhanders" and a not-so-innocent smile replaced the other one. "Whatever you're thinking of saying – don't – I'm not in the mood" these were one of the times where Johnny was positive Archy was a mind reader. The eyes of a pure RocknRolla burned into his own – depth of brown. Johnny still wasn't sure why Archy was up here, in his room: shouldn't he be running jobs for his boss?

"Not that I don't want you here – but _why_ you up here Uncle Arch?" Johnny asked stepping closer to Archy. The man was now looking at some of the lyrics that were scattered about, sitting on his heels his head bent to the floor. Bollocks. Under those lyrics was Archy's gun. Johnny walked over to the window and chucked the dying cigarette into the evening air.

"Your father asked me to check up on you" was the reply. Johnny coughed, he half believed that, but that most likely wasn't his Daddy's exact words. More like: 'Go see what that dirty little shite is doing on his own' or a variation on that theme. "Well, your spelling hasn't improved" and Archy stood up putting his hands in his pockets. "Johnny"

That voice Johnny knew from experience. He was in trouble. That smooth baritone was not a good thing when it pronounced his name like that. Johnny froze.

"Pick it up" Archy was always the one of few words.

"Pick what up Arch?" he adopted his softer, childlike tone.

"You know what. Down there underneath the paper" Archy said calmly. Johnny began to walk closer to Archy. He wasn't scared of him, just alert of the man's presence. Stooping he shifted aside some paper – one looked like a caution notice – and laid his hand on cold silver. Always having a fast reaction time he spun about pointing the gun at Archy. Unfortunately the Archy was that bit quicker and snatched at Johnny's t-shirt and wrist. Johnny didn't put up a fight, he was nowhere near as strong as Archy. A flick of the wrist and a jab, the gun was now in Archy's hand. The click of the safety and a smirk on the older man's lips that made him high. Johnny looked at the gun and then at Archy.

"Don't hurt me Arch, I'm only little" he whimpered in jest. He was still really close to Archy's lean body, their legs almost entwined. Johnny bit his lip and looked up at Archy eyes wide and sultry…

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_Okay, don't shoot me please? It was just an idea... but review if you like it and want me to continue. xxx Johnny/Archy :D_


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